by Ali Winters
She didn’t respond but instead returned to flipping through pages.
“Nivian, what in Gaia’s name are you doing?”
Caspian placed a hand on her shoulder and her own stilled. Small cuts flecked the skin of her fingers, though already healing, he could see many more still in the process of repairing themselves.
Nivian shook her head as if clearing her mind and took in the mess she’d created. The blood drained from her face and she dropped to her knees picking up the carelessly discarded books.
“I’m sorry, I will repair them all.”
Caspian watched her with interest. He was used to her eccentricities, but they usually made sense. As far as he could tell, this mad search through books didn’t. He stooped to help clean up the mess, gathering several books before placing them on a stack.
“No, not there.”
He froze, brows shooting up.
“I just…” She glanced toward the small stacks. “I separated those, I want to read them.”
“What is it that you are looking for?” he asked.
Nivian bit down on her lip and after several long seconds, averted her gaze, returning to busy her hands by straightening more. Caspian reached out and placed a hand atop hers, stilling her movements.
A sliver of light glinted off the gold debossed title of the book clutched in her hands. Journey of souls.
Of course. How could he be so stupid? She still missed her Hunter. His chest squeezed tight against his heart, the pain in her eyes was so familiar to him. It had been his pain once, a long, long time ago.
“It was not your fault,” he said softly.
Nivian let out a low sigh then lifted her chin. He looked at her then, taking in the details of her face. Her once soft features had become sharp, the skin under her eyes dark and sunken. Guilt and sorrow had eaten away at her over the past few weeks.
Caspian parted his lips, ready to send her home to rest, but she slipped her hands from his, turning her back on him. She stood and started placing books on the shelf.
He rose to full height, holding another stack of tomes. She plucked one at a time and examined each, stacking the ones that would need repairing along the base of the bookcases. Nivian worked slowly, and he let her have the silence she seemed to need.
“I can’t let anyone else take the risk,” she said after a while.
He almost didn’t hear her. She blamed herself for Kain’s death and now for Finn’s. Though, he wasn’t sure what she was hoping to find in these books of mythology and history that would alleviate those feelings.
“That is not your choice to make. It is a necessary risk we all must allow to happen.”
She took another book from him, her fingers bone white from their tight hold.
“Nivi, do not make this your burden alone to bear. We will find another Hunter who can withstand the geas of Yeva’s powers.”
Nivian snapped her gaze to his face, her mouth drawn in a tight line. The blue of her eyes deepened into pools of an endless ocean, flashing like sapphires.
“Nivian?” he spoke her name softly. Caspian reached up and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. She was a living contradiction. She looked so fragile, yet a fire burned within, radiating off her in waves, giving her a fierceness she’d never had before. “What is this about?”
A dark smile spread across her lips. “Only one opposite ever made sense. It’s why we’ve failed. There’s a better way, I know it.”
Caspian took a step back. She wasn’t making any sense.
“My ceremony, Finn’s ceremony—they both failed because of me. Because my heart refused to accept anyone other than Kain. There was a small part of me that didn’t commit, will never commit. I can’t change how I feel.” She turned pleading eyes on him. “I want to. I would if I could—believe me, I’ve tried… but I can’t.”
Helpless. He was helpless to alleviate this pain that held her so strongly in its grasp.
Nivian drew a long breath then let it out. “If there’s the slightest chance I can undo everything then I have to try.”
Caspian’s brows drew together. “What are you talking about?”
The word came quietly—no more than a quiet sigh. “Kain.”
Both pain and frustration wound their way through him. Caspian gripped her shoulders with both hands. “Nivian, Kain is dead. He is gone. You speak of impossibilities. You have to move on now.” He forced himself to push back the harshness of his voice. “I would give you all the time in the world if I could, but that is not within my power to grant you.”
“No!” she snapped at him. “He’s the only one who can do this and survive. Without him, there is no way to tell how many more will die trying. How many more of us do we have to lose as the end comes for us?”
Us. He didn’t know if the us meant the Reapers, or if she considered herself a Hunter again. Though the main issue remained: she was taking it all too personally.
Caspian could feel the frustration taking over, its fiery hand snaked its way up the back of his neck. “It is not possible,” he ground out. “It is over, Nivian. Kain is dead, and he is not coming back, no matter how much you wish it to be otherwise.”
“No—”
“That is enough. You will do nothing but follow the instructions I have set forth. I will not have you risking the balance on wishes.”
With that, he dropped his hands and turned, storming out of the room, the guilt of his words already seeping in. Nivian deserved time, but it was not a luxury they could afford. They did not have time for impossible wonderings.
Caspian took long strides through the halls, not stopping or slowing to avoid the looks from the Reaplings that mingled casually. In a few short moments, he reached the gates of G.R.I.M. and transported mid-stride, appearing at the edge of the Hunter’s domain.
He had no idea what Nivian was thinking, but he was determined to begin prepping Holter for the ceremony so they might begin sooner rather than later. And to keep Nivian from jeopardizing everything.
Caspian entered the hangar nearly bumping into Azira as she bolted around the corner.
She stopped, breathless, her face flushed. Most likely due to running, though part of him would have liked to believe it was for him.
“Hey, Caspian!” She smiled brightly and wiped her hand across her forehead, smearing a line of black grease. “Holter is in the office.”
“Thank you, Azira.” He couldn’t help but return a smile of his own.
She waved and took off running again.
“I wasn’t expecting you quite so soon,” Holter said once she was out of range.
Caspian dragged his gaze from Azira’s retreating form. “I am sorry for the intrusion.”
“Not at all.” Holter waved off his worry, then motioned him to follow. “Come into my office.”
Caspian took a seat as Holter walked around his desk and grabbed a bottle filled halfway with amber liquid. An amused thought struck Caspian. This must be what the Reaplings feel like when summoned.
“Care for a drink?” Holter held out a short glass with two measures of the liquid.
At first he thought to refuse, but realized there was no reason to. He accepted it with thanks and waited for the other man to gather his thoughts. It was as though his presence inspired dread and stress in everyone. It was an unpleasant feeling. He took a sip of his drink, enjoying the burn as he swallowed.
Holter tossed his back and poured another before sitting across from him. “Who would have thought a Reaper and a Hunter would be working together?”
“It has been so long, I had all but abandoned the idea.”
Holter laughed deeply. “That was lifetimes ago. I feel like a completely different person now.” He finished his drink then set the glass to the side.
“I plan to make Azira my replacement before my ceremony.” Holter leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk, and added in a serious tone, “I do not want her to attempt to take on Yeva’s powers.”
Casp
ian didn’t even have to think about his reply. “You have my word.”
“Good.” Holter leaned back in his chair.
Caspian ran a finger along the rim of the glass, then spoke his fear out loud. “I do not know if Nivian will survive if we lose you too. I am reluctant to attempt the transfer with you.”
“Believe me, I’d rather not take this chance, but there is no one else.”
“There is truly no one with power close to yours?”
“If there is, then they are in hiding or unaware of who they are. We lost a lot of Hunters in the war. We never had a concrete list of who lived and who died, or went into hiding. For all we know, there could be several Hunters trying to avoid being found by either side.” He rubbed the stubble on his face. “We know what we must do. I might even survive this.” He smiled, but there was a tightness to his voice that betrayed him.
“Still, I had to ask for her sake.”
“Understood.”
“I want to start prepping you. I believe if we stretch your power, we can condition your body to accept Yeva’s.”
“Is that possible?” Holter asked.
“I don’t know,” Caspian said honestly, “but I believe it is worth trying.”
Holter nodded, seemingly unable to find words.
“I will return the day after tomorrow and we can begin,” Caspian said, rising to his feet. He let himself out, closing the office door behind him.
He walked out onto the tarmac to the edge of Hunter Corp. and placed his hood atop his head ready to transport. His power stilled when he saw Azira talking to a man disembarking a small plane. They walked in his general direction though neither seemed to be aware of his presence.
Caspian couldn’t hear what they said, but the familiar lilt of her voice reached his ears, accompanied by her laughter mingling with the unknown Hunter’s. She placed her hand on the man’s arm. A pang of jealousy clutched at his gut just as she turned toward him.
Their eyes met for just a moment—a look he didn’t recognize crossed her features. Then, in the blink of an eye, he transported back to G.R.I.M.
ELEVEN
KAIN
KAIN STOOD ON the edge of the second river and blinked into the flames. Could it even be called a river if it was pure fire?
As soon as he’d stepped out of the Acheron, the weariness had left him, but in its place was a hollow feeling as if it had carved out and stolen something important. But as hard as he tried to think of what it could be, the more it eluded him.
It was then he realized the price the river had demanded. They did not want a coin as the Ferryman had, but parts of him, parts of who he was. What other pieces of himself would he forfeit to avoid nonexistence? Would there be anything left? After all, continuing to exist seemed rather pointless if there was nothing left of him but the essence of his life force.
Nivian’s face flashed across his thoughts. Idiot. He could almost hear her snort the word at him as she rolled her eyes. She would be pissed if he gave up now.
After all, he still had the gift of rebirth given to him by Yeva. Perhaps seeing her again wouldn’t be impossible.
Kain couldn’t get the hurt and guilt of her expression out of his head, even if it was manufactured by his own imagination.
And… she loved him. Forcing her to cut his life thread had seemed like the only option at the time; now, he couldn’t help but feel as if he’d only hurt her more than necessary by asking her to do it.
He shook away the growing feeling of guilt and focused on the river.
It was unnerving being inches from the eerie liquid fire. Embers rained down all around his feet, barely missing him, as if they wouldn’t touch him until he set foot inside.
Misery awaited him in that river, that much was obvious. His life—his after life—wasn’t worth the pain and effort.
But the river called to him, and he took another step closer. Heat wrapped around him and he could almost feel the flames licking at his skin.
Kain sent one last wistful look at the river he’d just left. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad staying in the Acheron. There was nothing left to take from him, nothing worth taking.
But Nivian… she would throttle him, or at least threaten to, if he gave up. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she would find some way to know if he fought for his afterlife or not. Once she set her mind to something, there was no stopping her. It was why he’d lived as long as he had. She had decided he, out of everyone else in the world, was worth fighting to protect. She’d refused to reap him.
Kain smiled to himself. Did she even realize her own determination and stubbornness?
He couldn’t let her down anymore than he already had. She deserved better, he owed her that much. And no matter the cost, he wanted to see her again some day. It didn’t matter how long it took.
For her—for Nivian—he would go.
Still, the fear of pain, of being burned alive, willingly, held on tight. Though he was not alive, he didn’t exactly feel as if he wasn’t.
Being dead would take some getting used to.
Kain stuck his arm out and reached into the fire. The flames chewed and clawed, ripping at him with razor like talons. With a cry, he wrenched his arm back.
Nothing. Not a single mark of charred flesh or a thread of clothing was singed.
He swallowed hard.
Run… he could run and get through the river fast then move on to the next. Kain had no way of guessing how long it had taken him to get through the first river. It had seemed quick, yet at the same time, it had also felt far too long.
And the pain… it seemed impossible to last more than a few seconds feeling the agony and torment the Phlegethon promised, only now it would spread its raging touch over every part of him.
Go forward into the fire, or stay on the shore waiting for oblivion.
At least it would be over at some point. It wouldn’t last.
He took in one deep breath. Two. Three. Kain took a step closer and just before he immersed himself into the sea of flames, he wondered what this river would demand from him.
White torment seared his vision, stealing it away. A scream ripped from his lungs, so wild and horrible it took a long moment to realize it had been his own.
The fire burned down his throat and into his lungs as if he swallowed the sun itself. He fought to breathe, to think past the sharp violent heat, trying to remember why he was there, what he needed to do.
Kain curled into himself then dragged one foot forward. His toe scraped the bottom of the riverbed, stirring up blood red embers, then the other foot. Again and again as he blindly trudged forward.
The fire climbed higher. Every movement was a fresh knife wound, shards of glass being dragged along his skin and ground into every new cut until there wasn’t an inch of flesh untouched.
Dark spots formed along his thoughts, suffocating them, drowning them, killing them slowly, one by one, until only a single thought remained.
Keep moving, don’t stop.
Kain’s foot caught on the uneven ground and he crashed to his hands and knees. He didn’t even think about the pain jarring his bones. In less than a second, the conflagration swallowed the rest of him. Pieces he’d forgotten he possessed, and he was submerged wholly by the inferno.
He had thought he’d been in pain before, but it was nothing compared to the unbearable heat eating him in that moment. His body shuddered and he fell to his back, gasping for breath, begging for only the smallest drop of relief.
He opened his mouth to yell but no sound came, the sound of the roaring fire swallowed. The flame and smoke crawled its way across his body and down his throat, licking at every nerve ending, and devouring him from the inside out.
Kain tried to turn over and crawl, but his limbs refused to obey his commands. His mind screamed, begging for an end. He waited for unconsciousness to take him but it hovered out of reach, taunting him no matter how hard he pleaded.
He swore he would give anything for it to
end, not caring what it would take.
Then, slowly, the rolling ache ebbed, first at his feet, then his legs. The relief moved up his skin. The black spots and blinding flares that had filled his vision faded and vanished until only the river of fire remained. Kain looked down at his hands, the fire still clung to him like long, thin fingers, reluctant to let go. And as he sat there watching them dance, he felt nothing.
He was completely numb. His body felt foreign. A vessel his consciousness inhabited, but it did not belong to him. Not anymore.
Kain pushed himself off the floor of the riverbed of coals and embers, though now he remained unaffected by any of it.
Weak and heavy, Kain stumbled, making his way through to the river’s edge. It took a few tries to get his body to move in a way his mind understood. To understand how this form he couldn’t feel worked.
Stepping out onto the gravel shore, Kain looked down at his body. It didn’t look like his, it didn’t feel like his. It didn’t feel like anything. Any sensation he’d once had was gone.
Kain tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and screamed up at the sky.
TWELVE
NIVIAN
NIVIAN SLUMPED AGAINST a shelf, holding a book to her chest. She had hoped to bring it up to Caspian once she had all her research gathered, the proof of what she suspected to be true, collected and compiled into undeniable notes.
But he’d caught her off guard and she’d spilled everything, all the hints she’d found… her theories, without even so much as a second’s preparation. Of course he’d thought she was insane. It was the ranting of a mad woman. She thumped the heel of her palm on her forehead.
Hurrying to replace the books on the shelf, she set the last of the damaged ones in a pile on the table next to the ones she intended to take a closer look at. At least the pile she needed to repair was relatively small.
Nivian went to the far back corner of the library and gathered the supplies she needed, carrying them back to her table. She took her time. Guilt weighed heavy on her shoulders that she let her desperation make her so careless. Though the library had long since fallen into disuse, the books were still valuable and to be treasured and taken care of. It didn’t matter that the volumes she’d damaged were in need of repair anyway. That didn’t excuse her rough treatment.